


The Reign of Truth

by kimirce



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 2x08, Arthur is a badass, Canon Era, Episode Fix-it, Fix-It, Gen, Good morgana, Knights - Freeform, Magic Revealed, Merlin & Morgana Friendship (Merlin), Merlin makes good choices, Morgause is gray but not evil, POV Arthur, Reveal Fic, Sins of the Father, secret reveal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:00:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24443242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimirce/pseuds/kimirce
Summary: Following Morgause's revelation, Merlin convinces Arthur not to kill Utherwithouttelling him that Morgause was lying, and destiny is set on a brighter path.
Relationships: Gwen & Merlin & Morgana & Arthur Pendragon, Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin & Morgana (Merlin), Morgana & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 71
Kudos: 340





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first Merlin fic I've ever posted! Please enjoy!

“Do not let this knowledge change you.”

Arthur’s head bowed at the conviction in his mother’s voice. He trembled, overwhelmed with emotion and what he had just learned. He looked up to meet her eyes again, to ask –

But the space in front of him was empty. “No!” He gasped, reaching a hand out pointlessly. He turned to the sorceress that had brought him here. Morgause. “Bring her back,” he demanded desperately, eyes wide.

“I cannot,” she said, and there was something like sympathy in her dark eyes.

“Once the doorway is closed, it is closed forever,” she explained softly. Arthur’s gaze was fixed on the space his mother - his _mother -_ had just occupied. Vaguely, he registered a rustling on the ground behind him as Morgause stepped closer. She reached his shoulder.

“I am truly sorry you learned of your mother’s fate in this way,” she said, voice still soft, as though he might break.

“I can only imagine how it must feel to discover your father is responsible for her death.” Morgause was still sympathetic, but something had shifted in her countenance. There was something measured in the way she spoke to him.

“It is an unforgivable betrayal.” She continued, and Arthur realized what had changed. He did not doubt the compassion he heard in her voice, but there was something more, too. She was waiting to see what he would do. Weighing his choices, now that he understood the atrocities that his father had committed against her and her kind. There was a pause. Then, having said what she needed to, Morgause turned and walked away.

He stared ahead as his entire life reorganized itself. Everything that he’d known to be true, the understanding of the world his father had given him – none of it could be trusted. His world is turned on its head. And his father. There had been so many times that he had known his father to be wrong – times when the king had acted without compassion or mercy for those meant to be under his care.

When Camelot had starved from the unicorn’s curse, the king had denied them sustenance. When Merlin had saved Arthur’s life from poison, the king callously tried to prevent his rescue. He had denied a good and worthy man the chance to be a knight solely due to the circumstances of his birth. The King had even tried to execute a mere child – had executed children, many times in the past. Guinevere’s father had also been wrongfully executed.

Every time, Arthur had chafed against his rule, even defied him at times, but had always folded, knowing his father to be an honorable and just man, who wanted only what was best for Camelot. But now – it was like a veil had been lifted from Arthur’s eyes. His father was a liar, a hypocrite, and a murderer, unworthy to be king of Camelot, to rule _Arthur’s_ people. He had _killed Arthur’s mother_ in his selfish desire for an heir. Arthur had been blinded by his love for his father – but now his love for his mother allowed him to see clearly.

His confusion and hurt and misplaced guilt coalesced into a single point. Rage. And it was directedly solely at his father, King Uther Pendragon. In that moment, Arthur knew what he was going to do. Uther would die for the death of his mother.

A voice, low and understanding, brought him back to the world. “Are you alright?” Merlin asked. Arthur inhaled sharply. Merlin stepped closer. “Arthur?”

“Fetch the horses,” Arthur ordered, and turned away, unable to face Merlin’s sympathetic, guileless blue eyes. “We’re returning to Camelot.”

*

Merlin was quiet as he led Llamrei to Arthur and handed him her reins. Arthur swung into the saddle and started off, knowing Merlin would be right behind him.

He pushed the horses faster than he otherwise might have, refusing every overture Merlin made to try to get him to talk. They would ride through the night if they must. Arthur could think only of laying his accusations at Uther’s feet. He knew that once he saw the truth of it all in Uther’s eyes that the next moment would have Arthur’s blade at Uther’s throat.

And even if his father chose to fight him, to defend himself... well. Arthur knew that he had surpassed his father as a warrior years before. Uther Pendragon would receive the judgement he deserved.

“Arthur!”

Merlin had finally had enough, it seemed, as they picked their way through the darkened forest. He pulled his mount in front of Arthur’s, forcing him to a stop.

“Merlin - ” Arthur began tightly, clamping down on his rage. Merlin, predictably, interrupted him, eyes flashing with obstinacy.

“The horses need to rest, Arthur,” he asserted, “And so do you. Whatever it is you intend to do, you will not be in a state to do it if we ride straight through the night.”

Arthur breathed hard, knowing that there was no other who would dare to confront him in his anger like this. Merlin held his gaze steadily. Arthur wondered if Merlin knew what it was that Arthur intended to do. He probably did. Sometimes it seemed as though he knew Arthur better than he knew himself.

It didn’t matter. Arthur knew that Merlin’s loyalty was his, not his father’s. Whatever happened, Merlin would remain by his side. It was a strangely comforting thought in the haze of rage and vengeance that clouded his mind.

As much as Arthur hated to admit it, his servant was right. “Fine,” he bit out, and dismounted. “We will ride at dawn,” he said, and lay down at the base of a tree with his cloak wrapped around him, leaving Merlin to settle the horses.

He heard Merlin shuffling about and murmuring quietly as he lay on the hard ground. His roiling anger wanted to keep him awake, but Arthur was a soldier and a knight. He had learned many moons ago to take sleep where he could get it, and to fight battles as prepared as possible. He drifted off quickly, rage coiled tight in his chest.

*

Arthur woke some scant hours later to pale light through the trees. He got to his feet and looked to find that Merlin had already risen and had the horses waiting. Their eyes met, and Arthur nodded in acknowledgement, then wordlessly mounted Llamrei. As always, Merlin followed right behind him. They would reach Camelot by midday.

*

As they approached the gates, Arthur breathed deep, pushing his pain into a tiny knot in his chest and reveling in the righteous anger that rose to take its place. He rode silently into the city and into the castle courtyard, then dismounted, eyes fixed on the castle.

Arthur wrested his sword from its place on Llamrei’s saddle and tucked it into his belt, then strode up the steps. Behind him, Merlin called out. “What are you going to do?”

Arthur ignored him.

Servants and guards alike leapt out of the prince’s way as he stalked through the halls of the castle. Murmurs followed Arthur as he made his way to the council room. To his lying traitor of a father. He spared a moment to think what the gossips would say when all this was done, then steeled himself. It mattered not. His father would pay for his crimes.

Arthur reached the large doors to the council room and didn’t pause, pressing them open with intent. He stepped a few paces forward and then held himself still as his father’s eyes turned to him. He stood with Sir Leon at the head of the council table, discussing some matter or other.

“Arthur,” Uther greeted. “Where have you been? I’ve had search parties out looking for you.” His tone was tinged with exasperation and concern. The concern, the normalcy of his behavior, when the truth had been what it was all along, nearly made Arthur snap. He clenched his fist, mouth trembling with the effort of reining his temper in a few moments longer. He needed a confrontation first. He needed Uther to admit what he had done before he slipped into that blind killing rage.

“Arthur,” Uther said again, frustrated with his silence. Sir Leon looked on in confusion.

Arthur breathed.

“I know,” he enunciated lowly, “what you did to my mother.”

Uther was often difficult to fathom, but Arthur saw the crack in his façade when he blinked at this declaration. He was not surprised.

Arthur’s rage burned that little bit brighter.

“Leave us,” Uther ordered curtly, handing his papers to Sir Leon while keeping his eyes on his son. As Sir Leon reached the door, looking warily between the Prince and the King, Uther raised his voice. “No one is to enter.”

Sir Leon stepped out, and the guard helped him close the door.

As soon as the doors shut, Uther affected an air of confusion. “What are you talking about?” he said neutrally.

Arthur’s lips twisted. “You were so desperate for an heir,” he said, fighting to keep his voice even, “you were prepared to use magic.”

“Did Morgause tell you this?” Uther asked disdainfully. “She’s lying.”

The casual denial was so immediate that Arthur had to stop a rush of nausea from overwhelming him. This was what his father looked like when he was lying. And it was clearly a lie, and it threw several other moments with his father into clarity. Arthur had seen this before.

He spoke his grievance, biting out the words with a calmness he did not feel.

“My mother is dead because of your selfishness and arrogance. Her blood is on your hands.”

“No, that’s not true.” Uther denied, “But Morgause would have you believe that.”

“This is what fuels your hatred for those who practice magic – rather than blame yourself for what _you_ did, you blame them.”

Arthur’s voice was steady as he spoke. Uther stepped towards him.

“You would believe a sorcerer’s lies, over the word of your own father?” Uther paused. “I can only think that Morgause has enchanted you.”

“You have hunted her kind like animals. How many hundreds have you condemned to death to ease your guilt?” Arthur’s voice rose strongly, finally losing some of his iron control in the face of his father’s continued denial.

Uther spoke over him, temper rising in return. “Those who practice magic will stop at nothing to destroy us – I have only done what is necessary to protect this kingdom.”

Arthur’s mouth twisted in disbelief as he heard his father’s words, finding himself nearly smiling at the sheer gall of this declaration. He interrupted, unwilling to hear another word.

“You speak of honor, and nobility – you’re nothing but a hypocrite, and a liar!”

“I am your king and your father. You will show me some respect!”

But Arthur was done listening. He could see now that his father would never admit the truth of his crimes. Perhaps he had deluded himself so deeply that he could not even see what he had become.

Arthur schooled his features and met his father’s eyes. He walked forward with measured, predatory steps, then yanked his gauntlet off his left hand and tossed it at Uther’s feet.

Uther looked down, then up, eyes wide and features slack with disbelief. “Have you lost your mind?” He said, barely above a whisper.

“Pick it up,” Arthur commanded.

Uther watched his son with a wary expression. “Arthur, I implore you – think about what you’re doing,”

“Pick,” Arthur said, losing his patience, “it up.”

“I will not fight you,” Uther asserted, blinking almost as if he were preventing tears.

Arthur’s eyes were glassy and his face set as he drew his sword with a metallic ring.

“If you choose not to defend yourself,” he said, voice low as he approached Uther with a naked blade, “then I will strike you down where you stand.”

Uther swallowed and tilted his head up. “You’re my son. You will not strike an unarmed man.”

Arthur seriously doubted that his father was unarmed, but he had an answer nonetheless.

“I no longer think of myself as your son.” He said the words slowly and quietly, and did not miss the impact they wrought on Uther’s face.

But Uther kept his head high, as a king should, and invited it. “Then strike me down.”

Arthur wavered a moment, unsure, but then he remembered his mother’s face, and his rage flared anew. He raised his sword and struck down, in what would have been a devastating blow had it connected. But Uther, with a warrior’s instincts faded but long-honed, had raised a blade to block it.

Uther grimaced and looked down, as though he could not believe what had just happened and was deeply saddened by it. He lowered his sword, stepping back from Arthur.

“I don’t want to fight you,” he said, but Arthur remained poised to attack. The part of his mind that was not consumed with rage registered with a grim satisfaction that Uther could not fight Arthur if he wanted to. He had raised the greatest warrior in the land, after all – and now he would meet his doom at the hand of the man he had created.

Arthur spun his blade in his hand and prepared to attack, following Uther as he stepped backward, features set with grim determination.

They met in a clash of swords. Arthur attacked with a ferocity and speed that he rarely indulged in, and Uther stumbled back, struggling to block the blows.

“Arthur, stop this,” he pleaded.

But Arthur did not, and Uther struck back in earnest, just missing Arthur’s neck as he retreated. Arthur raised his sword immediately, ready to attack again.

Uther saw the look in Arthur’s eyes, and his brow furrowed as he settled into a defensive position. Arthur stalked forward, forcing Uther back. He attacked again, and this time, Uther fought back properly. There was a reason that Uther had once been known as a great warrior and was hailed as one still. But he was long past his prime, and Arthur could tell that there was no true contest in this match.

Arthur pressed his attack once more, disarming Uther and flinging his blade onto the council table, then kicking Uther hard in the stomach, shoving him back. Two more steps and Arthur overbalanced Uther, who fell onto his throne. Arthur pinned him there with a hand on his right shoulder and a sword above his heart.

Uther’s face was shocked, eyes wide and mouth gasping. Arthur felt his rage and coming grief collide in a painful whirlwind of emotion as he tensed to thrust the blade home.

At that moment, the doors to the council room were flung open.

“Arthur!” A voice shouted, desperate and strong. Arthur’s hand stilled.

Merlin. Of course it was Merlin.

“Don’t! I know you don’t want to do this,” Merlin ran forward, coming up behind Arthur’s right shoulder.

“My mother is dead because of him!” Arthur stated, anger lining every word as the point of his blade trembled against Uther’s chest.

“Killing your father won’t bring her back,” Merlin pleaded. His voice was calm, but twisted with grief on Arthur’s behalf. Arthur’s face wracked, but the sword remained where it was. “You’ve lost one parent. Do you really want to lose another?”

Merlin’s impassioned plea slowed the haze of anger, just a bit. Arthur’s grip slackened on his hilt, tilting the blade lower.

“Listen to him, Arthur,” Uther said, and the rage burned high again. Arthur resettled the point over Uther’s heart, wanting to snarl at him to be silent – wanting to press the blade home and silence him forever.

“Arthur, please,” Merlin said again, voice low and calm. “Put the sword down.”

Arthur could not help but listen to Merlin, but the rage still burned high, righteous in his chest.

“You heard what my mother said,” he protested to Merlin. Arthur’s voice cracked on his next question. “After everything he has done, do you believe he deserves to live?”

Arthur kept his gaze on the King’s face as he continued to accuse. “He executes those who use magic, and yet he has used it himself!” The rage rose again, and Arthur’s next words were addressed directly to Uther. “You have caused so much suffering, and pain,” he breathed hard. “I will put an end to that.”

Arthur pressed the sword a bit deeper.

He could hear Merlin breathing behind him. Merlin was so often his moral compass. He was the one who most often inspired him to go against his father, to see the value in the common people. Merlin’s innocence and rare wisdom was a guiding light to him, though he rarely admitted it. Could he do this with Merlin set against it?

He heard Merlin take a deep breath.

“You’re right,” he said. Arthur almost turned to look behind him, his heart seizing with something – he couldn’t decide if it was relief or disbelief. But he kept his eyes on Uther’s trembling face.

“You’re right, about all of it,” Merlin continued. “But it is not right for him to die by your hand.”

Arthur trembled. “Is it not right for a son to avenge the sins of his father?”

“His death would not avenge his sins. And this – this is not the kind of king you are meant to be, Arthur. You will be the greatest king this land has ever seen. But your reign cannot begin with blood spilling blood.”

Arthur’s sword arm lowered slightly. Uther could not seem to believe what he was witnessing. “You would listen to a mere serving boy?” Arthur tensed once more.

“Arthur,” Merlin’s voice coaxed softly. “He’s not worth it. His death is not worth the pain it will cause you. Remember what your mother said?”

Merlin paused, and Arthur shut his eyes and shook his head, not wanting to listen.

“She said, ‘Do not let this knowledge change you.’ Arthur, this isn’t what she would have wanted. You don’t have to forgive him. But do not let him stain you like this. Put the sword down.”

Arthur did not move. He heard Merlin step closer. “He’s not worth this, Arthur.” A long moment passed.

Arthur grimaced, staring into Uther’s eyes once more. His gaze narrowed. “For my mother’s sake,” he said slowly, “I will spare your life.” He shoved Uther down hard and threw his sword to the ground. Arthur surveyed the fallen king, considering all the things he wanted to say.

His fists clenched, then released. Merlin was right. It wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth it.

Arthur turned and stalked out. He passed a saddened Gaius and a wide-eyed Sir Leon, and several astonished guards. He felt Merlin fall into place behind him, as familiar as his own shadow.

Gaius stepped into the room, and after a moment’s hesitation, Sir Leon turned and followed Arthur down the hall.

When he reached an empty corridor, Arthur paused at the sound of his First Knight’s gait coming up behind him.

Leon stepped in front of Arthur, and knelt. “Sire,” he began hesitantly. “What you said…”

Arthur nodded curtly, not willing to deal with it at the moment. “Every word was true. The King is not the man I thought – we all thought – he was.”

Sir Leon nodded, then bit his lip, clearly unsettled. Then his face cleared, apparently coming to a decision. He drew his sword and offered it up. “Your Highness, my sword is yours.”

Arthur was astonished. This was not an outcome he had expected. He knew exactly what it meant, of course. If Arthur decided to turn against his father, to usurp him, he would have support. The part of his mind that had been trained to be a king began whirling with this development. But for now…

He laid a hand on Leon’s shoulder. “Rise, Sir Leon. I accept your pledge, and I know you will serve with honor.” Sir Leon got to his feet, and dipped his head in a shallow bow.

“When word gets around of what has happened, I doubt I will be alone,” Leon said, meeting Arthur’s eyes. It seemed that loyalties had been shifting for longer than Arthur had known. He nodded in perfect understanding. Sir Leon dipped his head once more, then turned and walked away.

Arthur turned to look at Merlin, expecting him to have that idiotic gobsmacked look of surprise. Instead, however, Merlin’s features were quietly thoughtful, and Arthur was certain he saw pride in his eyes.

“You did the right thing,” Merlin said.

Arthur looked to where Sir Leon had vanished. “I hope so,” he said. The knot of anger in his chest had cooled to a smolder. “Come on,” he told Merlin, and made his way towards his chambers, with Merlin striding beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've only had my archive account for about a month, but this has been sitting in my Word documents since last September. Figured it was time to finally post it!
> 
> This episode is one of the most frustrating episodes of the entire series to me. If there was ever a tipping point in Arthur and Merlin's destiny, I think this moment was it. Actually, I have a couple more fix-it fics for this episode specifically, and I'll probably post those at some point too.
> 
> Anyway, I'm on [tumblr](https://kimirce.tumblr.com/) if anyone wants to come say hi, and I'd love to hear what you think so far down in the comments!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur takes a moment to think, and Morgana demands answers.

Arthur remained ensconced in his chambers for the rest of the day. He sent Merlin for food and a bath, and sat quietly at his desk, contemplating the new battlefield laid out before him.

He hadn’t wanted to become king yet. He had only been crowned as prince a year before. But he was starting to think he had no choice. Could he stand by while Uther terrorized more innocents? The answer to that was no, of course. But a bloody coup or a civil war might very well do more damage than leaving Uther to the throne until he died a natural death.

The best option would be if he could sway all the knights and council members to his side, and then have Uther declared unfit to rule and forced to abdicate. It would be a bloodless, smooth transition, and it would leave no doubt regarding his right to the throne.

Arthur tossed the quill he’d been fiddling with down and leaned back in his chair. He was using this problem to avoid what he really didn’t want to think about.

If his father was the tyrant all along, what did that make Arthur? What did it mean for all the people he himself had hunted under his father’s orders? And _how_ was Arthur supposed to deal with the fact that he still loved Uther under all the anger he bore?

He almost couldn’t believe how quickly he had turned on his father. But it hadn’t been quick, had it? He had thought over and over again about the things that he would change when it was his turn to rule. He had known that his father was wrong. But the issues hadn’t been urgent enough that Arthur needed the throne to fix them immediately. He had only recently found the strength of will needed to defy his father and speak his own mind.

It was quite offensive, really, how every time he had, Uther had assumed his thoughts were being influenced and poisoned by another. As though Arthur himself wasn’t capable of consciously disagreeing with his father.

Well, he thought self-deprecatingly, for a while, that had been more or less true, hadn’t it? Until Merlin.

Merlin.

It was strange, how Merlin had so swiftly become such a constant and necessary person in Arthur’s life. Arthur didn’t really even want to examine just how deeply he needed Merlin, let alone admit it.

The mouthy, skinny peasant boy with the appalling ears had ducked under all his defenses immediately, thrown his life away again and again, and then started expecting Arthur to be a better person then he was. And somehow, Arthur found that he wanted to meet Merlin’s expectations. He wanted to be the man and the king that Merlin seemed to see in him.

As he’d said just shortly after they met, there was something about him…

He was interrupted in his musings by the man himself. Merlin knocked, miracle that that was, and then entered the room with a tray of food and then started hauling in several buckets of steaming water that were lined up in the corridor.

Arthur ate, watching him silently as he filled the tub, forgoing the desire to poke fun at Merlin. Merlin seemed to sense the mood, and remained quiet as well, showing rare discretion.

As Merlin approached Arthur to help him disrobe for the bath, Arthur stood and stepped away. He examined Merlin closely. Merlin met him stare for stare, but flushed under his scrutiny.

“Thank you, Merlin,” Arthur said. Merlin opened his mouth, clearly to make some sort of quip, then thought better of it, bowing his head instead.

“You are welcome, sire, as always.” His tone was respectful, but he flashed Arthur a grin as he straightened.

Arthur looked him over once more, unsure what he expected to find. He opened his mouth to dismiss Merlin for the night, then changed his mind.

“Go get some food for yourself from the kitchens,” he said. “And then bring it back here to eat. I want to talk to you.” As he said it, he realized it was true. For some reason, it seemed as though talking to Merlin might help him make sense of the mess his life had just become.

Merlin raised an eyebrow in surprise, but didn’t object. “Alright, Arthur,” he said, switching to the informality they were both used to. He darted a glance at the tub. “Do you want…”

“I will bathe myself this evening, Merlin.”

“Are you sure you know how to?” Arthur chuckled in spite of himself.

“Of course I do, _Mer_ lin. Are you suggesting your prince cannot fend for himself for a simple bath?”

Merlin’s grin grew. “Well, sire, if the crown fits – or doesn’t, given the size of your prattish head.”

Arthur balled up a cloth napkin and tossed it at Merlin’s head. Merlin spluttered. “Get out,” Arthur said, but he felt the corners of his mouth turn up.

“Yes, sire, of course, sire,” Merlin acquiesced, bowing mockingly. But the look in his eyes was fond as he gathered up the dishes and left the room.

*

Later that night, when Morgana burst into his chambers with Guinevere on her heels, Arthur realized he really should have expected it. He was mostly dressed, and Merlin was seated at his table, finishing off a bunch of grapes.

Arthur pulled his tunic over his head. “Can’t you knock first?” He demanded. He jerked his head at Merlin, who got up to shut the door behind the girls.

“Arthur,” Morgana said, ignoring his attitude. “What _happened_ today?”

Arthur pursed his lips, settling into a more serious mood. “What have you heard?”

“There are rumors flying all over the castle that you tried to kill Uther.” Morgana paused, eyeing Arthur for a reaction, but he did not give her one, so she continued. “No one can agree on why. Plenty of people don’t believe you would ever try.”

Guinevere interjected. “Some are saying you were enchanted, sire, by the woman you fought the other day.” Morgana nodded.

Arthur scoffed. “I wasn’t enchanted.”

Morgana stared at him, pale green eyes wide. “Then you really did try to kill Uther.” Arthur saw Guinevere’s shocked face behind her.

He braced himself on the back of the chair, looking at each of them in turn. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I did.”

Guinevere put a hand over her mouth. Morgana was shocked, but she didn’t seem as horrified, studying him with an intensity he rarely saw.

“Why?” She said.

Arthur put a hand on his forehead and breathed deeply. He wasn’t sure he wanted to discuss this now, but if he didn’t start putting the truth out there, the rumors could become a problem. He looked up to meet Merlin’s reassuring blue eyes. He nodded slightly, and Arthur sighed.

“Because I found out that he used magic to conceive me, and sacrificed my mother’s life for an heir.”

Morgana went pale, and Guinevere clutched at Merlin’s arm.

“So, all this time…” Morgana whispered.

“Yes. He turned on magic, blamed it for my mother’s death instead of himself.” Arthur’s fists clenched hard as he pressed them into the table. “He killed my mother, and then slaughtered thousands of innocent people in a crusade to ease his own guilt.”

The horror in the room was palpable. Guinevere shook her head. “I’d like to say I can’t believe it, but…”

“But you’ve met Uther,” Morgana said, although there wasn’t as much venom in it as Arthur might have expected. Morgana’s eyes were very wide and green.

“Arthur…” she began. He looked at her, waiting for her to get out whatever it was she wanted to say. “You called magic-users – sorcerers – innocent.”

Arthur sighed heavily. “It seems that they always were,” he said, and Morgana gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.

Morgana’s reaction was not remotely what he had expected. A fiery display of temper, perhaps, rage on behalf of the innocent dead. But instead, she stared at him for a long moment, her hands still covering her mouth. And then, her eyes filled with tears, and they began pouring down her face.

Arthur straightened in alarm, and saw that Guinevere looked much the same way he felt. And Merlin…did not look at all confused or surprised by this development – in fact, he sported a rather teary smile himself.

“Merlin,” Morgana said, turning to him and dropping her hands, voice thick with tears. She saw his smile and darted forward, wrapping her arms around him. “Merlin, I can’t believe it,” she choked out as her body shook with quiet sobs. He embraced her back just as hard, and his tears overflowed as well.

“I know,” he said, softly, joyously. “I know,” and they sank to the floor, embracing and weeping.

Arthur was dumbstruck. What was happening? He shared a glance with Guinevere, and saw nothing but confusion in her gaze. She knelt beside them, and rested a hand on Morgana’s back. “Morgana, Merlin, what….”

Morgana and Merlin pulled apart, sharing a look with each other. Arthur could not decipher its meaning, and was surprised at the pang he felt, that something had clearly been happening that he was not privy to. He had guessed a while back that Merlin had feelings for Morgana, but had not thought they were at all returned. But even a secret tryst or relationship would not explain their reactions to the news he had given them.

Morgana mopped at her eyes, while Merlin ignored the tear tracks down his face. “It’s because you said you believe that sorcerers are innocent, Arthur,” Morgana explained.

Arthur looked between them, still confused. Merlin picked up the thread. “The thing about magic is that most people don’t have a choice in it. You have it or you don’t. You have to learn in order to control your power, but it’s not something that is sought out, as Uther claimed.”

Arthur stared, still not understanding. How could Merlin of all people possibly know anything about magic?

“What does that have to do with why the two of you started crying out of nowhere?”

But Guinevere had her hand over her mouth, and was growing teary-eyed herself, looking at Morgana. She had clearly realized something he had not. Arthur looked between them all, growing frustrated.

Morgana bit her lip, looking scared. Merlin rested a hand on hers, and she smiled gratefully at him and grew bolder. “Magic can begin to manifest without the user’s knowledge… like when I shattered the windows in my room when I woke scared from a nightmare.”

Arthur was nonplussed for a moment, uncomprehending. “Are you saying that you…”

Morgana nodded. “I have magic.” She smiled, ribs heaving a moment with the remnants of her sobs. “I’ve been so _scared,”_ she said. Morgana leaned into Merlin again, and he smiled at her in relief.

Arthur knelt down, joining the three of them on the floor. His mind was racing. If magic came to you whether you chose it or not, a whole new level was added to Uther’s cruelty. And Morgana, the woman he loved as a sister, had been suffering in fear and silence over something she couldn’t control, having been told all her life that what she was was inherently evil.

He reached for her hands, and she took them, holding on tightly. She watched him, unsure how he would react.

“I’m sorry, Morgana. I’m sorry for what Uther did, and for all the parts I’ve played in it. I’m sorry that you couldn’t tell me. I’d like to believe I wouldn’t have hurt you, but…” he trailed off. “I will be here for you now,” he told her.

“Oh, Arthur,” Morgana said, and then it was Arthur’s turn to receive a tight embrace. “I guess Merlin was right about you,” she said in his ear, then drew back.

Arthur quirked a brow. “Right about what?”

Morgana smiled. “That you are not your father,” and she twisted to embrace Gwen.

Arthur turned his quirked brow to Merlin. Merlin just beamed at him, and there was no mistaking the pride in his eyes.

“So,” Arthur drawled as the girls drew back from each other. “How is it that Merlin came to know about this?”

Morgana opened her mouth to answer, and Merlin winced. Her lips snapped shut and she turned her gaze to him, silently questioning.

Merlin sighed. “I knew about her magic before she did.”

“What?” Morgana exclaimed.

“How could you possibly have known about her magic before she did?” Arthur asked.

Merlin took a breath and looked at Morgana. “I am sorry,” he said. “I wanted to tell you earlier, but Gaius was convinced you were safer in ignorance, as close to Uther as you are. I wish I had told you anyway.”

Morgana’s mouth worked. “I wish you had as well,” she said slowly. “But I suppose that is understandable.”

“What does Gaius have to do with it?” asked Guinevere.

Merlin fidgeted, then looked up and met their eyes. “Gaius realized years ago that Morgana’s nightmares were an indication of prophetic ability.” He looked at Morgana. “You’re a seer.”

Morgana’s anger rose. “So all the draughts he gave me - ”

“He was trying to prevent you from realizing that you had magic. But your Sight was too strong. The dreams kept coming through, and then the magic manifested as well. I know you’re hurt, Morgana, but he honestly meant well. He thought keeping you in the dark was the best way to keep you safe.

“I realized a while back that some of the dreams you shared with me were coming true. I confronted Gaius about it, and he told me the truth, then swore me to silence.”

Morgana looked mutinous. “He and I are going to have words over that.” Merlin nodded in acquiescence.

Arthur felt almost as though he had been doused in cold water, learning of this new side of the manservant he had trusted so completely. “I thought I knew you,” he said, looking at Merlin strangely. “I thought you couldn’t keep a secret to save your life.”

Merlin smiled weakly. “I suppose you never know if you can until you have to,” he said. “But I’m still the same person.”

“But you always got so skittish when magic came up,” Arthur said, brow furrowed.

Merlin sighed. “That wasn’t because I was afraid of magic, clotpole.” Merlin rolled his eyes. “It was because I was afraid you’d chop my head off if you found out I _wasn’t_ afraid of magic.” He smiled, for real this time. “You have no idea how happy I was to hear that you were considering the idea that not all magic was automatically evil.”

Arthur looked rather deep in thought at this reply. “Why weren’t you afraid of magic in the first place though?”

“Because you’ve known sorcerers,” Morgana filled in. “Like your friend Will.” Arthur nodded in understanding. That incident, of a sorcerer who had sacrificed his life for his, had remained with him.

Merlin nodded uneasily. “And I didn’t grow up in Camelot,” he reminded them.

Arthur was about to take that line of questions further when Merlin cursed softly. He put his head in his hands as they all stared at him, unsure of what was happening. Merlin laughed quietly, almost bitterly. “If there is a time for truth-telling, I suppose this is it,” he commented. He turned to Morgana. “I owe you another apology.”

Morgana looked at him, suspicious and confused. “What do you mean?”

“I should have told you when you came to me,” Merlin elaborated, without explaining anything. “But I was scared too. I’m sorry.”

“You should have told me what?”

“That…” Merlin stood and scrubbed at his hair with his hands, and paced. “This is harder than I thought.”

The three still on the floor shared questioning glances.

Merlin turned to them, and then sank back to the floor. “I’ve never just told this to anyone before,” he said, and cursed again.

“You all know that Gaius practiced magic before the Purge,” he said abruptly.

Morgana nodded, and Guinevere did too. “I suspected,” she said. Arthur felt quite put out. Did he know anything that was happening in the kingdom he was meant to rule one day?

“I suppose that makes sense,” he said.

Merlin bit his lip and fidgeted with his neckerchief. Arthur felt a tide of frustration rise in him. “Just spit it out already!” He demanded crossly.

Merlin flinched, and Arthur regretted losing his temper. “It’s alright, Merlin,” Guinevere soothed. He gave her a weak smile. He blew out a breath and closed his eyes, and then opened them determinedly.

“My mother knew Gaius from before the Purge,” he explained, looking at the ground. He closed his eyes one more time, as though pushing himself to go through with what he was about to say. “So,” his voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again, aware of all three of his friends watching him closely.

“So,” he started again, and spoke slowly, eyes still on the ground. “When my magic began to grow too powerful, she sent me to Gaius to learn control.”

Arthur was shocked, and Morgana and Guinevere looked as surprised as he. Somehow, this was more surprising than Morgana having magic. His bumbling yet oddly wise manservant, magic? Merlin was still studying the ground, avoiding their gazes.

“You told me you could take me apart with less than one blow,” Arthur said, remembering.

Merlin looked up, and his lips quirked. “Yes,” he said, and didn’t elaborate. Arthur fell silent, and resumed staring.

Then, Morgana leaned over, and hit Merlin on the arm. “Ow!” He held a hand to his shoulder, looking at her. “I guess I deserved that.”

“You should have told me.” Morgana reiterated. “Instead of trying to send me to the druids.”

Merlin winced. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Morgana studied him. “I forgive you,” she said, after a long moment. “But you had better teach me now.”

Merlin smiled then, genuinely. “I would love that.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 had been complete for a while, but I was a bit stuck on Chapter 3, and I wanted to get further with it before I posted 2. 
> 
> You know, I wrote this all originally without any real plans, but now that I'm getting into it, I feel like I'm setting up for a story with plenty of politics - and yes, of course, magic and knights as well, since it's _Merlin._
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this new chapter, and as ever, I am around on [tumblr](https://kimirce.tumblr.com/) if you want to come check it out or talk to me, and I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter in the comments!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uther takes precautions, the loyalties of Camelot's knights begin to grow confused, and Arthur draws some troubling conclusions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter took a while to get down, and it's not even that long...  
> It feels a bit rushed to me, but nonetheless, I hope you enjoy!

The next morning, Arthur woke up and stared at the canopy above his bed. Dawn was just breaking, and Merlin hadn’t arrived yet.

Right. Merlin was a sorcerer. Morgana was a sorceress. He blew out a breath and sat up. He had a feeling that was going to take a while to get used to.

What was he going to do next? By now the whole castle had surely heard of his altercation with the king the previous day. Did he just go about his day as normal? Did he ignore his father? What would he tell his knights?

Perhaps more pressing was the matter of Merlin and Morgana. Arthur hadn’t thought it through the night before, surrounded by candlelight and tears and the telling of secrets, but in the light of day, one thing was clear. Neither Morgana nor Merlin could stay in Camelot. Not while his father still held the throne.

They could invent some pressing reason for Morgana to return to her father’s estates, and she could take Merlin with her. They would be safe there. Arthur ignored the pang in his chest at the thought of both Merlin and Morgana being absent from his life. Hopefully, it would be a temporary measure.

Arthur stood and went to the window, looking out at the courtyard below. It wouldn’t be easy to convince Merlin or Morgana to leave, he thought, but surely they would see the necessity of it. As it was, he simply couldn’t ensure their safety; and as not only his subjects, but members of his household – and his _friends_ – their safety was his responsibility. Surely they would understand. Hopefully.

His knights. They were due for training that morning. Arthur briefly entertained the idea of staying locked in his chambers all day, but that action smacked of a sulking child, not a would-be ruler. His people had to see him, and his knights were owed an explanation.

Arthur wasn’t sure how long he stood at the window, contemplating his next actions. He turned at the sound of the door opening, to see Merlin entering his chamber.

“You’re awake,” Merlin said, sounding surprised.

Arthur rolled his eyes as Merlin stepped fully into the room, balancing a breakfast tray and pushing the door behind him closed with his foot. “Very observant, Merlin,” he said dryly.

As Merlin set the tray down on the table, Arthur got a better look at him, and felt his eyebrows rise despite himself. Merlin’s hair was an utter bird’s nest, and his clothes were rumpled. There was a slightly manic cast to his expression that suggested to Arthur that he had hardly slept that night. Merlin stepped lightly away from the table and smiled brightly.

Arthur was taken aback. Merlin looked tired and out of sorts, yes, but…Arthur didn’t think he had ever seen Merlin so happy. He had thought he had known what Merlin looked like when he was happy, but this was something new. It was like a great weight had been lifted off Merlin’s shoulders.

“What?” Merlin asked.

“I know you have a bed,” Arthur said, “so why do you look like you spent the night in the stables?”

“Hm?” Merlin looked down at himself and shrugged. “Morgana and I didn’t sleep much last night,” he said cheerfully.

Arthur choked a bit. Did Merlin realize what that sounded like? He remembered Morgana and Merlin giggling with each other as they left his chambers late last night, and Guinevere smiling fondly after them as she blew out his candles and departed as well. But after – what had they done after?

“Never say that anywhere near the king,” Arthur warned.

Merlin’s cheeks went pink. “Not like _that,_ you prat! We were practicing magic.”

Arthur stiffened, and even though they were alone in his quarters he found himself sweeping them instinctively for eavesdroppers. In two quick strides he was on Merlin. Arthur gripped his arms tightly and shook him. “Are you insane?” He hissed. “You cannot just _say_ that either! What is wrong with you?! And Morgana too! What were the two of you thinking, practicing magic inside Camelot?! If you get caught…”

Merlin had bristled at the beginning of Arthur’s tirade, but calmed a bit as he understood what Arthur was getting at. He pried himself free of Arthur’s grip. “I’ve been practicing magic in Camelot for nearly two years,” he pointed out. “We were careful, I promise. Now eat your breakfast.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” Arthur muttered, but turned his attention to the food on the table nonetheless.

In addition to his typical morning fare of soft white bread, meat, and cider, there was a plate of freshly-cut pears drizzled in honey. Arthur gave Merlin a look.

“I know how much you like them,” Merlin said. “I thought you deserved it after yesterday.”

Arthur picked up a slice and bit into it, tasting sticky sweetness on his tongue. “I feel like I should be worried by your sudden increase in competency. You were even on time this morning.”

Merlin snorted. “Don’t get used to it,” he warned Arthur.

Arthur sat, and beckoned Merlin to do the same. “You might as well help me finish it,” he told Merlin. “You know I don’t like to train on a full stomach.”

As Merlin joined him, reaching immediately for the pears, he raised his eyebrows. “You’re still planning to train today?”

“Is that such a surprise?”

Merlin shrugged. “I don’t think anyone is expecting to see you at all today.”

That only strengthened Arthur’s conviction that going out was the right thing to do. “I can’t hide forever, Merlin,” he pointed out. “And I can’t let the gossips get to my knights before I do.”

Merlin hummed. They ate in an oddly comfortable silence. There were still things they needed to discuss, Arthur thought, but that conversation could wait just a bit longer.

*

When Arthur arrived at the training grounds with Merlin by his side, the knights were gathered together, arguing furiously with each other in hushed voices. Arthur raised a brow. His arrival had garnered no notice whatsoever. Merlin snickered.

Arthur cleared his throat.

The arguing persisted without even a glance in the prince’s direction. Arthur rolled his eyes, and strode forward. “I see you all are being quite productive without my presence,” he said loudly.

The knights jumped apart, aiming looks at Arthur that varied between apprehensive and contrite.

“Apologies, Sire,” said Ector, the oldest and least excitable of the lot. The younger knights echoed him, bowing their heads. Arthur nodded at Ector in thanks, and Ector returned the gesture.

Sir Ector had trained Arthur himself, when the prince had been a boy. He was getting on in years, and no longer fought in active duty, but often trained along side the current knights. He had taught Arthur a great deal, and so Arthur highly respected the man.

Arthur surveyed the rest of the men. “Would any of you care to share what it is that so distracted you from training?”

Arthur had his suspicions, of course, but he wanted to hear what it was his knights were thinking.

The knights exchanged wary glances with each other, holding themselves stiff in a way that suggested they were trying to resist nervous fidgeting. None of them would quite meet his gaze.

“Well?” Arthur demanded, annoyed. The knights shifted.

“Is it true, Sire?” a voice finally burst out.

Arthur raised a brow. “I’m going to need you to be a bit more specific, Sir Caradoc,” he said.

Caradoc wavered uncertainly, but no one else spoke up, so he forayed on. “We have heard that you were enchanted, Sire. That a sorceress enchanted you to try and kill the king.”

“I was not enchanted,” Arthur said evenly. “And the king is alive and well.”

The knights still looked quite uncertain.

“Then, Sire,” Caradoc tried again, “what happened yesterday?”

Arthur looked over the men again, seeing confusion and apprehension in their gazes. Only Sir Ector projected an outward appearance of calm. Well. These knights had sworn allegiance to the king, but they had been trained by Arthur’s hand; had gone to battle under Arthur’s command. One of those loyalties would be stronger than the other. But first…

“Sir Leon was there,” Arthur said. “Have any of you spoken to him?”

“No, Sire,” said Lucan. “He departed to the border near Escetir at first light, on the king’s orders.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed. Already it had begun. He shouldn’t have spent so much time locked in his chambers the day before. He had just given Uther time to spread rumors to discredit Arthur and to deprive him of allies.

Arthur eyed Lucan. He and his brother Bedivere were rarely apart.

“And Bedivere?” Arthur asked.

Lucan’s brow furrowed. “He received orders early this morning as well, Sire,” he said. “He took a patrol to guard a grain shipment coming from Gedref.”

Inwardly, Arthur cursed himself. Leon and Bedivere were among the most trustworthy and capable of his knights. Men who would back Arthur’s claim to the throne. And now, they were both out of his reach. Uther was a tyrant, but he was not a fool.

Arthur had been silent too long. “Sire,” said Lucan, hesitant but firm. “What is going on?”

“The king – my father – is a hypocrite and a liar,” Arthur declared. The knights stared at him in shock. He could feel Merlin shifting in surprise, having not expected Arthur to say it so outright. But there was no point glossing it over.

“Sire - ” Geraint began, wide-eyed.

Arthur cut him off. “He used magic,” he said, and the knights went silent. “He traded my mother’s life for my birth,” Arthur continued, “and then he slaughtered thousands to cover his own guilt.”

Ector suddenly looked very old and weary, closing his eyes in self-recrimination.

“That can’t be true,” said Geraint, shaking his head. “That can’t…”

Caradoc opened and closed his mouth. “Magic is evil,” he insisted. “It’s dangerous. The king wouldn’t do that.”

Arthur winced inwardly, remembering Merlin’s presence. “But he did,” said Arthur, voice heavy. “And he lied to us all when he told us magic was evil, to persuade us to capture and kill innocent people. He has betrayed the Code of Chivalry and every knight in this realm.”

Lucan’s face was pale. Caradoc looked at Arthur as though he’d never seen him before. “Magic _is_ evil,” he said. “Or have you forgotten the all the sorcerers who have tried to kill you? To kill us? Have you forgotten the magical plague that murdered men and women and children alike? Or the beasts of magic who have killed innocent travelers and villagers, stolen their food and supplies, wrecked their fields - ” Caradoc’s voice trembled. He cut himself off.

Arthur winced as he recalled that Caradoc’s young brother had died in the plague almost two years ago. His reaction was understandable. “I know, Caradoc,” Arthur said, and his voice was sympathetic. “But how many of those attacks would have happened if we had not slaughtered them and their children first?”

Caradoc’s fists clenched. “You cannot be serious,” he said, forgetting the respect he usually accorded Arthur. A moment later he remembered himself. “You must be enchanted, Sire,” he said. “Let us find the sorceress that has done this to you, and we will make your mind your own once more.”

Arthur shook his head. “No, Caradoc,” he said. “The sorceress did nothing but tell me the truth. She does not deserve to die for that.”

“All who practice magic must die,” Caradoc said tensely. “It is the only way to protect us all. You are not in your right mind.”

“Caradoc,” Lucan said, “we must at least listen to the prince - ”

“Magic leads only to death and ruin,” Caradoc snapped. “How is it that you all must be reminded of that?”

“No,” said a new voice, and it was Sir Ector. Arthur looked at him in surprise, along with the rest of the knights. Kay, who had been nodding along with Caradoc, stared at his father in utter astonishment. Ector had been one of Uther’s knights, and Arthur had fully expected him to back Caradoc.

“Magic did not used to be so feared,” Ector continued. “I have never trusted it – those with magic have always believed themselves to be exempt from law and order. Unpredictable and uncontrollable, the lot of them. But the idea that they all must die is new.” Ector closed his eyes. “Children – infants even – were drowned by the dozen during the Purge. Entire villages razed to the ground. The sky over Camelot was thick with smoke from the burnings for months.” He opened his eyes again. “No one could look at all that destruction and believe it was the right thing to do, but the king could not be reasoned with.”

Ector looked at Arthur. “It began less than a day after the queen died. I wish I didn’t, but…I can believe that Uther did what you have claimed.”

The younger knights murmured, a variety of emotions running through the crowd. Caradoc shook his head. “No,” he said. “I believe what I have seen with my own two eyes. Magic is evil, and I have seen it. If you cannot do what must be done, then I will.” With that, he turned and strode away. Kay stared at his father, and then followed after Caradoc, joined by Geraint.

The rest of the men remained, looking uncertainly between Arthur, Ector and the knights that had walked away.

Arthur suddenly felt a burst of frustration with them. These knights were supposed to be sworn to the people of Camelot – to the Code of Chivalry. Why were they standing there like indecisive lambs, rather than railing against the wrongs that had been committed?

A rational part of his mind tried to remind him that things were not truly so simple, and that he had known that this would not be easy, but looking at them all just _standing there_ rekindled the anger in his chest.

“You’re all dismissed,” he said, turning to walk away.

“Arthur,” Merlin hissed, grabbing his arm.

Arthur shook him off. “Not now, Merlin,” he said, and strode away.

*

Merlin caught up to him in an empty staircase near the east wing of the castle. _“Arthur,”_ he said, not bothering to be quiet this time.

 _“What,_ Merlin?” Arthur snapped, turning on him in his frustration. “What, exactly, do you want to say? Because I am perfectly aware that that did not go well. I don’t need to hear whatever idiotic thing you’re thinking.”

Arthur turned at the end of this small tirade, and met Merlin’s eyes, only to be silenced by the steely glint he saw there. Merlin stared Arthur down, and when he was satisfied that Arthur was not going to snap at him again, he spoke.

“It’s a start, Arthur,” Merlin said. “Your knights love you, but they have followed Uther all their lives. It will take time. The most important thing now is that you know the truth, and now they do too.”

Arthur shook his head. “No,” he disagreed. “The most important thing is removing Uther from power, so that he can hurt no one else.” He slammed a fist against the wall in frustration. “But he’s already taken my greatest supporters away from court. Without Leon and Bedivere, I can’t…”

“Arthur,” Merlin wrapped his hands around Arthur’s wrist and brought his hand down from the stone. Arthur’s knuckles were scraped and red. “You can,” Merlin said, meeting Arthur’s eyes. “You will. You will bring down Uther, and you will be the greatest king that Albion has ever seen.” Merlin’s eyes flared gold, and coolness swept through Arthur, soothing the heat of his raw skin, his sore muscles, his day-old bruises. “And I will be beside you every step of the way,” Merlin swore, eyes still gold.

Arthur was caught between awe and fear. The gold faded, and Arthur jerked back in a delayed reaction, staring at Merlin wide-eyed. _Magic._ Merlin had just performed magic on him. Arthur swallowed. He knew, now, intellectually, that magic was not evil. He knew that Merlin would not harm him. But that did not stop the instinctive jolt of fear he had felt at the sight of Merlin’s eyes burning gold.

And – suddenly Arthur’s sense slammed into him, and his gaze darted around the staircase. He spared a moment to be grateful for its winding, cramped nature – such that no one could have seen them from afar.

“Arthur?” Merlin asked, unsure.

“What were you thinking?” Arthur hissed.

Merlin’s brow furrowed. “What?”

Arthur shoved his newly-healed hand before Merlin’s nose, voice hushed but furious. “This! What were you thinking, doing that here?!”

Merlin’s looked down at Arthur’s hand, puzzled. His eyes widened. “Your scrapes…they’re healed.”

 _“Obviously,”_ Arthur said, incensed.

Merlin shook his head minutely, eyes rising back to Arthur’s. “I didn’t mean to,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Arthur stared. “You didn’t mean - ”

His brain caught up with his words. “You mean you can do – _that –_ by _accident?”_ His voice was incredulous.

Merlin avoided his gaze. “Not…only sometimes. Not usually, anymore.”

Arthur was appalled. That – had far too many implications for him unpack at the moment. He grabbed Merlin by the arm and towed him up the stairs.

Merlin stumbled. “Where are we going?” he asked.

“To see Morgana,” Arthur answered through gritted teeth. “So that we can hide you away somewhere you won’t do anything stupid, and Morgana can help me figure out how to handle Uther.”

“Yeah, okay,” Merlin agreed.

Arthur tightened his grip on Merlin. It seemed that they were going to have to have that conversation he’d avoided that morning sooner rather than later. The risk of discovery was too high. Merlin and Morgana needed to leave Camelot, and they would have to do it soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I wrote this chapter, I wasn't quite sure where it was going. I have the next chapter planned out a bit better, so hopefully I'll be able to finish it in a shorter amount of time. (I've also been a bit distracted with inspiration from other fandoms, but that's just how it goes, I think.)
> 
> I intend for several different knights to play larger roles in this fic than they typically do. There are so many knights with so many interesting stories in the legends, and I think they were _criminally_ underused in the series. I'll be making a post soon with my character notes and research about the knights I'll be introducing, and I'll make sure to link to it after the next chapter (I'm getting really attached to these knights).
> 
> So far, this fic has been entirely from Arthur's POV, and I had intended to keep it that way, but I'm starting to think that some of the other characters want a say - Leon, particularly, and perhaps Bedivere and one or two of the other knights as well.
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts on that idea - and, of course, your thoughts in general about this story and this chapter - in the comments, and as always, feel free to come check out my [tumblr](https://kimirce.tumblr.com/) and reach out to me there as well!
> 
> (Additionally, if you are enjoying this story or any of my other work, please consider checking out [this particular post](https://kimirce.tumblr.com/post/624378159225257984/buy-me-a-coffee). ❤️)


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